My Eyes
by Facing My Failure
Summary: The story of RENT is told largely from Mark and Roger's point of view. This is Mimi's story.
1. We're Not Gonna Pay

My Eyes

a/n: ATTENTION: Paris Hilton just made it illegal to weigh over 108 lbs. Oh, and I don't own this.

Chapter one: We're Not Gonna Pay

"Man, that was some crazy shit," I said, walking down the street with Angel. We had just come back from this group, Life Support, that he had taken me to. "Life Support's a group of people coping with life. You don't have to stay too long," he had told me.

"You didn't like it?" he asked.

"Yeah…" I said, hesitantly. "It was just… I don't know. All that stuff about 'no day but today'. Just weird."  
"Yeah, well, maybe you'll use it some day." I snorted.

"Yeah, maybe." I see you've delved into the world of men's clothing," I joked, referring to his pants.

"Meh. Skirts are definitely more comfortable. But I must admit, these shoes are much easier to walk in," he smiled.

"Do you think you'll stick with it?"

"Nah. I can feel the arch in my feet falling. God gave me heels for a reason."

"Okay, but I've gotta go. Mami will be calling, because tomorrow's Christmas, and I have to figure out a new job to tell her about." Angel laughed.

"There's nothing wrong with dancing." I raised an eyebrow. "Ok, its _exotic _dancing, but so what?" We laughed, and I tapped on his pickle tub. Excuse me, his drum.

"Bye, baby," I called. Walking to my apartment, I hummed a tune, bouncing a little. It was a good day. Looking around, I saw some homeless guy trying to wash some yuppie's window, and al most got ran over. Instinct told me to help him, common sense told me not to be potentially mugged. Suddenly, a bike swerved right in front of me, some blonde geek on it.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Sorry!" the guy called back. I frowned, and stepped into the building, an unhappy sight greeting me at the door. **EVICTION NOTICE**. The day just got a _whole _lot better. Tearing the paper from my door, I looked for a lighter, grabbed a pack of cigarettes, and went out onto my, _ahem_, balcony.

It seemed the others in my building had the same idea. I torched the notice and shouted, "I'm not gonna pay last year's rent!" The atmosphere was wild, and crazy, and heated. I lived for places like this. I decided to stay on the fire escape, have a smoke, and watch the angry squatters chant: "We're not gonna pay last year's rent, this year's rent, next year's rent! Rent, rent, rent, rent, rent! We're not gonna pay rent!" I jumped away as a load of fire fell from the floor above. One page fell onto my fire escape: "Acoustic sessions – Roger Davis," with some platinum blonde guy on it. I looked up to yell at the dumbasses that had thrown out all the fire, and stopped. There was the geek on the bike! Someone else stood next to him, but I couldn't see.

"Hey, Benny, that attitude toward the homeless is exactly what Maureen is protesting!" he shouted, looking resentful. I looked down, and there was the bastard who was still making me pay rent after we had made that "deal".

"Maureen is protesting losing her performance space. Not my attitude. Come down here, I want to talk to you." The one on the bike moved away, revealing his friend. Damn, the boy was fine. He had dirty blonde hair, and a nice face. I smiled winningly, hoping to catch his attention. He looked at me for a minute, and then looked away. I frowned. _Not how I had wanted that to go._ My mother had always said I had an air of determination about me, and I supposed she was right. I was going to get that guy. Life was too short to just let things go, especially now. I looked over at the street below and saw Benny laughing uproariously at something the one in glasses had said. I scowled, and went back inside.

Pacing, I set to work thinking of a clever way to introduce myself. I definitely couldn't just walk up there and be all, "Hi, I'm Mimi Marquez. I think you're hot, we should definitely fuck sometime." Well, he'd certainly remember me. Flopping onto the cold floor, my eyes wandered to a candle stub lying on my window sill. A mischievous smile erupted onto my face. Sure, I had a lighter to burn it with, but he didn't know that. Snatching it up, and my stash (God knew I didn't want anybody stealing _that_. The chronic shit was expensive.), I walked purposefully out my door and up the stairs. My face fell when I saw him go up to the roof with his guitar, but I found a shadowy place and plopped onto the stairs. All there was to do now was wait.

a/n: I'm not usually one to beg for reviews, but they definitely inspire me to go faster. HINT HINT, NOD NOD.


	2. I Didn't Recognize You

My Eyes

a/n: Now look at you guys! You did awesome! Thanks so much for the many reviews! And look what you got? A new chapter in just one day! Cause and effect, my people. Cause and effect.

Chapter two: I Didn't Recognize You Without the Handcuffs.

"What'd you forget?" he sighed as he slid the metal door open. I smiled.

"Got a light?" I asked sweetly, holding the candle out.

"I know you. You're – you're shivering," he noticed, taking off his jacket.

"Its nothing, they turned off my heat. And I'm just a little weak on my feet. Would you light my candle?" I asked again. Guitar-man, as I had dubbed him, had put his jacket around my shoulders. It was warm, and smelled nice. I noticed him watching me. "What are you staring at?" Busted!

"Nothing," he said as he shook his head. "Your hair in the moonlight." An unusual compliment, but I'd take what I could get. "You look familiar. Can you make it?" I had stumbled, to see what he would do. He had caught me, and received 5 "Mimi-points".

"Just haven't eaten much today. At least the room stopped spinning, anyway." I did a quick turn about the room to clear my head, and, I admit it, to give him a good look at me. "What?" Busted again.

"Nothing. Your smile reminded me of…" he trailed. Great. A girlfriend to get around. No matter, I had done it before. I wasn't proud of it, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

"I always 'remind people of – .' Who is she?"

"She died." _Yes!_ "Her name was April." The conversation was getting too morbid, so I discreetly blew the candle out, hoping he hadn't seen.

"It blew out again! Sorry about your friend. Would you light my candle?" He obliged, and we stood in silence for a minute.

"Well," he said, trying to find something to say. I silently thanked him for not making me leave, I wasn't quite ready to go.

"Yeah?" I pushed in a seductive tone, looking up at him through my eyelashes. "Ow!" The spell was broken with a very inconvenient candle dripping.

"Oh, the wax," he said, hesitantly taking the burnt fingers. He was so cute when he was nervous. I decided to test him. "Its – "

"– dripping," I interrupted, and guided his hand down and down. "I like it between my…"

"Fingers!" he yelped, laughing uneasily. I had gone too far. "I figured. Oh, well, good night." I smirked and handed back the warm leather jacket. I wasn't ready to leave, but I had gone too far, and made him uncomfortable. He had basically "shown me the door," so to speak. But, once again, smack saved the day! I knocked on the door.

"It blew out again?" he asked.

"No, I think that I dropped my stash."

"I _know_ I've seen you out and about. When I used to go out," he added, his tone becoming a little softer, a little sadder. "Your candle's out," he noted, gesturing to the stupid little stub in my hand. Having not found the drugs, I sighed angrily.

"I'm illin', I had it when I walked in the door! It was pure!" An idea formed in my head. "Is it on the floor?"

"The floor?" he laughed, as I got down to "look for it".

"They say that I have the best ass below 14th street. Is it true?" I asked playfully.

"What?" he spluttered. I smiled and sat up, feigning indignance.

"You're staring again!"

"Oh, no. I mean, you do – have a nice – I mean – ! you look familiar," he bursted, after stumbling over his words. I had to fight a laugh as he got down to help me in my search. _More likely to put his gaze somewhere else_, I thought.

"Like your dead girlfriend?" I asked, boldly and cynically, reminding him that she was gone, and _I_ was here.

"Only when you smile, but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else."  
"Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club? That's where I work – I dance."

"Yes!" he sighed. "They used to tie you up!"

"It's a living," I defended. Working where I did was nothing to be ashamed of, but I still was uneasy talking about it.

"I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs."

"We could light the candle," I suggested, changing the subject. I didn't want him to remember me as "the lame stripper downstairs who couldn't think of a better pick-up line than 'light my candle.' " "Oh, won't you light the candle?" I asked. He rested back on his heels and looked at me, but I didn't like it. It was almost like he was laughing at me.

"Why don't you forget that stuff? You look like you're 16." I stood up, mildly irritated.

"I'm _19_," I insisted. "But I'm older for my age. I'm just born to be bad."

"I once was 'born to be bad'," he said, the sad tone returning. "I used to shiver like that," he said, his voice suddenly becoming accusatory.

"I have not heat, I told you!" I didn't want to hear the "drugs are bad for you" speech again, not from him. I got it enough from Angel, and my mother.

"I used to sweat," he continued.

"I – got a cold," I answered hesitantly, my usually quick wit failing me.

"Uh-huh. I used to be a junkie," he shot. No use in faking it now, he knew.

"Now and then I like to – feel good," I conceded, shrugging.

"Oh, here it – !" he started, before stopping himself.

"What's that?"

"Oh, just a candy bar wrapper," he answered lamely, putting something in his back pocket. I was suspicious, and moved dangerously close to him, waves of discomfort rolling off him.

"Would you light my candle?" I asked in a low voice, with just a hint of a suggestion in it. He quickly doused the candle with his fingers. "What'd you do to my candle?" He fell onto the couch, and I followed, climbing over his lap to the arm rest.

"That was my last match."

"Our eyes'll adjust," I said, throwing the useless stub onto the table. "Thank God for the moon."

"Maybe its not the moon at all. I hear Spike Lee's shooting down the street," he offered, lamely.

"Bah, humbug," I shot, and began playing with the many rings on his hand.

"Cold hands," he noticed softly.

"Yours too," I returned sweetly. "Big. Like my father's. Do you wanna dance?" I asked brightly, pulling him up.

"With you?" I rolled my eyes.  
"No. With my father."

"I'm Roger."

"They call me – they call me Mimi," I said, distracting him before snatching up my prize of the white powder, dangling it in his face, and walking out the door triumphantly.

* * *

The next morning, I crept up the fire escape to his window and peered in. There seemed to be no signs of life. I hastily wrote in the grime: "X-mas brunch. Just us? Mimi." With an arrow indicating where I lived. I wasn't ready to be forgotten.

a/n: Ok, I'm warning you. The scenes that are in the movie will be pretty similar. But I'm trying to make them as original and different as possible. So. Go cry about it, but don't stop reviewing.


	3. Getting Back Betsy

My Eyes

a/n: Yeah, ok, so I took forever updating this one. Writer's block, and tennis season just started, so I've been crazy tired. But I'm recovering, and they should come more frequently now.

Chapter three: Getting Back Betsy

After my early morning escapade on Roger's window, I went back downstairs and promptly fell asleep. I didn't expect him to accept my offer, but it let him know I was interested, as if my little prance about his loft wasn't enough of an indication. But one never could tell; men were stupid. When I woke up, I groggily looked at my clock. 1:30. Realization kicked in, and my head shot up. _1:30! I was supposed to meet Angel a half an hour ago!_ Dashing out the door, I ran fast and furiously, dodging bad drivers and tourists who weren't paying attention. I saw her standing on a street corner tapping her foot impatiently.

I smiled. She was definitely _not_ easy to miss, in a red Santa Claus dress, white faux fur trim, and zebra print tights, complete with shiny black boots. There were two men by her, one with his arm slung lazily around her shoulders – a tall black man in a beanie and a joint stuck behind his ear – and a man who looked vaguely familiar poking a camera into the face of a sullen-looking homeless man. I tapped her shoulder and she spun around quickly. I brought my heels together and turned out my toes, clasping my hands together, and smiled sweetly, cocking my head to the side, like a puppy. Angel scowled.

"So what's your excuse?"

"Well… I was up late last night talking to this guy who lives upstairs from me. And then, really early this morning, I wrote him a message on his window." The white guy looked at me curiously.

"You're Mimi?" I glanced at him warily.

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm Mark. I live upstairs with Roger." I brightened and shook his hand enthusiastically. I have a feeling we're going to be _very_ good friends." Angel flicked my ear.

"So? Why are you late?"

"I sort of slept in." She rolled her eyes and gestured to the man with her.

"Collins."

"Your new boyfriend?" She smiled and her eyes sparkled.

"Something like that." Collins smiled and took her hand. I liked him.

"So, where are we going?"

X

The afternoon had been spent walking around the richer parts of the city, playing 'If I Had All the Money in the World…" and scaring tourists with impromptu melodramas. Collins was quick and funny. Being partially stoned only helped the situation. Mark seemed content to sit back and film our fun, but he seemed entertained. I got him to play once, in front of these older people. They were picture-perfect tourists. Old, white, clad in Hawaiian shirts, socks pulled up to their knees, sandals, _fanny packs_ (Angel had mimed puking at this), and cameras that never stopped clicking.

"Mark!" I whispered. "They're _perfect_! Go get 'em!" He started to protest, but I stopped him. "Here. Start talking to your camera. It'll _really_ freak them out!" He sighed and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he brought the camera eyelevel and began wailing.

"Betsy, please! I promise there are no other women! You're the only one for me!" He paused. "The disposable was a one-time fling! It'll never happen again." He grabbed one of the tourists' cameras and held it up. "Randy! Tell Betsy that I'm trust-worthy. He paused again, listening. "See, Betsy? I _told _you. Randy is never wrong. _Please _take me back!" He listened once more. His face lit up and he kissed 'Betsy'. "Oh, thank you!" And the two went dancing into the sunset, after he had shoved 'Randy' back to the horrified man. Angel, Collins, and I stifled our laughter until we had rounded a corner, where we promptly began howling with laughter. I checked my watch.

"Oh, hey, it's four. I have to go to work; I've got the early shift. Meet me outside my building around 11?" Angel nodded. "Hey, it was nice to meet you, Mark, Collins. Bye!"

a/n: Yeah, I know, it was a filler chapter. I had intended to make it longer, but then it would be too long, and it doesn't really fit with this chappie. BUT I couldn't just have Mimi do light my candle and then go straight to work the next day. Nope. I had to give her something to do. THIS IS WHAT YOU GET.


	4. Little Miss Negative

My Eyes

**a/n: Here's a bit of background info on Mimi. Its largely based on my fic "Confessions." Anyway… here you go.**

Chapter four: Little Miss Negative, 'Cause She's HIV Positive

When I was sixteen, my father died, leaving our already impoverished family virtually penniless. My mother had me, and five others to take care of. Three of the kids were under three years old, the other two were five and seven. My father who died was not really my father at all. I was the result of a high school fling my mother had. She married my adoptive father when I was eight. After Dad died, the house we lived in was horrible – not really a house at all. We were pretty much squatters. I figured my mother had too much to handle, and didn't need another mouth to feed, so I hitch-hiked to the City, figuring on being a Broadway dancer. But nobody would take me. I was a little Spanish wannabe with no agent. I was too young, too skinny, too inexperienced, too everything.

Central Park had become my home at the time. I loved it; the people, the noise of traffic on one end balanced out by the quiet of the park. But paradise would last for only a short while. I was hungry, and often scared, despite the tough façade I tried to put up. Winter came quickly – sooner than I had planned on, and I was cold. I had my seventeenth birthday in the snow. I had taken up prostitution, but only when I was desperate.

Then one day, I started feeling really terrible. I woke up with a sore throat. It hurt to swallow or eat anything. Normally, I wouldn't have done anything about it, but cash was low, and I didn't feel right about giving my flu to someone else. I had heard about a free clinic somewhere around the East Village, and went there, telling them about my flu-like symptoms, so they ran some tests – "for precautions". It turned out I was HIV positive. they told me that I would need to take my AZT regularly, and to be very careful, because it was a highly communicable sexually transmitted disease. Like I didn't already know that.

_I stepped out of the clinic to find it raining heavily – how appropriate. I sank to the ground sobbing, letting the rain wash over me, wanting to die; it was inevitable now. I just wanted to speed up the process. The words on the page in my hand rang in my head over and over again. _Mimi Marquez – HIV positive. Mimi Marquez – HIV positive….

_I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and looked up to see a… man? in a_ _bright orange mini skirt and matching jacket and flowered green heels looking at me concernedly._

"_You okay, honey?" I wordlessly handed him my test results. "Oh, honey," he said, enfolding my in his arms, stroking my hair. "Me too." He… she held me as I cried and laid my problems at her feet, offering comfort where she could. We stood and started walking down the street together. "I'm Angel."_

"_Mimi."_

_As we walked down the streets, a man and his dumb friends looked over at us – at Angel – and came up to her._

"_How's it goin', faggy?" His friends laughed uproariously. They looked – and smelled – drunk. Angel laid a hand on his shoulder and calmly replied:_

"_Baby, I'm more of a man than you'll ever be, and more of a woman than you're ever gonna get." She smiled and walked past, head held high, as the skinhead was left to his friends' taunts._

Angel and me were the best of friends after that. She helped me find my job at the Cat Scratch Club. When she found out that I was a hooker some of the time, she freaked _out_, and put a stop to that.

"_Where do you think you got HIV from, you crazy? And running around giving it to other guys? What's wrong with you?" she shrieked._

"_I'm careful," I mumbled. She popped me on the head for that one._

"_What do you _do_, Chula? What are you good at?" I looked down and shuffled my feet._

"_I used to dance." Angel thought for a moment. _

"_I've got it! You can dance at the Cat Scratch Club!"_

"_A strip club!" I shouted. Angel rolled her eyes._

So here I was. After two years, I got the attention enough to warrant a solo. So, every night, I stepped out onto my stage, smiled broadly into the spotlight, and began my dance.

"_What's the time…"_


	5. I've Got an Itch

My Eyes

Chapter five: I've got an Itch to Be a Bitch!

Tonight had been a great night at work. I'd had the early shift, so I wasn't tired, and the horny bastards had been generous with their tips. I often drank a little bit on the job, and had generated a healthy buzz. Not to mention my boss had taken me aside after work and told me that there would be an extension of my dance, complete with new lyrics, and a possible raise. Things were looking up.

I skipped and danced down the street, kicking the snow joyfully, rehearsing my new verse. "When I get a wink from the doorman, do you know how lucky you'll be? But you're on line with the feline of Avenue B. Let's go out tonight!" It was fast and sexy and fun and I loved singing it. I got home and threw off my coat and keys, putting them in the corner of the room. Upstairs, I could hear someone playing a guitar. I smiled. _Roger_. I was feeling sexy, a little drunk, and had a lot of energy and some time to kill before Angel would show up. Without thinking, I found myself climbing the fire escape up to his loft. I found him leaning over his guitar and began reciting my new song, hoping for a positive reaction.

"You're sweet, wanna hit the street? I wanna wail at the moon like a cat in heat, just take me out tonight!" I pushed open his window and climbed in. He watched me, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. I was happy and crazy, and all I knew was I wanted him _so _badly.

"Please take me out tonight. Don't forsake me! Out tonight. I'll let you make me out tonight – tonight – tonight – tonight. I leaned over and laid a kiss on him the likes of which hadn't been seen for a while. I felt him respond for a minute, then he seemed to realize what was going on and pushed me away.

"Who do you think you are, barging in on me and my guitar? Little girl – hey. The door is that way. You better go, you know the fire's out any way. Take your powder, take your candle – your sweet whisper, I just can't handle! Well, take your hair in the moonlight, your brown eyes – goodbye, goodnight!" I was shocked at his reaction. I had _thought_ he liked me. He'd certainly given off that vibe. I didn't understand what I had done wrong. I noticed he had gone and was leaned against the doorframe, looking dejected, muttering something about "I should tell you." He seemed like he felt bad about whatever it was he should tell, so I put my hand on his shoulder to let him know it was okay. "No!" he cried, startling me again. "Another time, another place our temperature would climb – there'd be a long embrace. We'd do another dance, it'd be another play. Looking for romance? Come back another day – another day!" He sank onto the couch and looked to the floor. I racked my brain, trying to think of something good to say to him. My thoughts returned to that Life Support thing Angel had taken me to.

"The heart may freeze, or it can burn. The pain will ease if I can learn. There is no future, there is no past – I live this moment as my last. There's only us, there's only this. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other way. No day but today."

"Excuse me if I'm off track, but if you're so wise, then tell me – why do you need smack?" I stared back at him in disbelief, shocked that he would actually say that. His words stung. _He doesn't understand, he doesn't know,_ I thought. Suddenly, he roughly took me by the arm and _dragged _me out the door.

"Take your needle, take your fancy prayer. Don't forget, get the moonlight out of your hair. Long ago, you might have lit up my heart, but the fire's dead – ain't never ever gonna start." He stood in the doorway, shouting and glaring at me. I stared back defiantly. I hadn't done _anything_ to him. Apparently, chasing me out of this loft wasn't good enough, and he felt he needed to chase me down the stairs too – like I was ever going back there again. "Another time, another place the words would only rhyme, we'd be in outer space. It'd be another song, we'd sing another way. You want to prove me wrong? Come back another day – another day!"

I went outside to cool off and wait for Angel and the guys. When I looked up, I found him on his fire escape. Still angry, I shot at him:

"There's only us, only tonight. We must let go to know what's right! No other course, no other way. No day but today. I can't control my destiny!" I pleaded. Up there, he was mumbling something to himself that I couldn't hear, so I continued to shout. "I trust my soul, my only goal is just to be!"

"Just let me be!" he returned. I saw Mark, Collins, and Angel come around the corner.

"There's only now, there's only here. Give in to love, or live in fear. No other path, no other way. No day but today." I looked at Angel with a look that said, _No day but today… right?_ She nodded reassuringly and touched my arm comfortingly.

"The fire's out anyway," I heard him say.

"No day but today!" I yelled.

"Take your powder, take your candle."

"No day but today!" Collins, Angel, and Mark joined me in my cries; Mark looking mildly ashamed, Collins trying to convince Roger, and Angel looking very calm.

"Take your brown eyes, your pretty smile, your silhouette!"

"No day but today!"

"Another time, another place, another rhyme, a warm embrace!"

"No day but today!"

"Another dance, another way, another chance, another day."

"No day but today!" I called. He looked down for a second and turned away. I shook my head and buried my face into Angel's shoulder.


	6. Now and Then I Like To Feel Good

My Eyes

Chapter six: Now and Then I Like to Feel Good

"And then he _shoves_ me out the door, and down the stairs. I don't even know what his problem is! I was just _trying_ to be friendly!" I ranted, pacing the streets, throwing my hands in the air. Collins laughed.

"Oh, you were friendly all right!" I glared at him.

"Its not you," Mark said softly. "Its April."

"_What_?" I snapped.

"I said you didn't do anything wrong. April did."

"I thought she was dead," I said bluntly. Mark winced. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"Yeah, she died. About six months ago. She and Roger had been together for a long time, and one day we came home, and it felt really… weird. Empty. Something wasn't right. We looked through all the rooms in the loft and couldn't find her anywhere. Roger saw a light on in the bathroom, and we decided she must have been in there. April liked to read in the tub for… hours on end. Roger knocked on the bathroom door, and she answered. A few minutes later, I heard a sniffing sound, like someone was crying, but I ignored it. I _ignored _it." Mark shook his head. "After an hour, Roger knocked again, but she didn't answer. He went in and screamed. I looked in and saw April, so pale, so white, so _dead_, laying in the tub, a pink razor in her hand, her arms slashed open." My hand flew to my mouth in horror. Mark's face had turned dangerously whitish-gray. Collins laid a hand on his shoulder. I sank to the ground, speechless.

"I know what," Angel said brightly, breaking the mood. I scowled at her. "Mimi, you come with us to Maureen's show tomorrow!"

"Who's Maureen?" Collins and Angel looked at each other and laughed. Mark's face turned bright red.

"My ex-girlfriend."

"I don't understand. What's so funny?"

"She left me, and is now perfectly happy with _her_ girlfriend." My eyes widened in recognition, and I made a choking sound in the back of my throat, desperately trying not to laugh. "Go ahead and laugh!" he said, punching Collins in the arm. I was shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Maureen is a performance artist," Collins explained between gasps. "She's protesting Cyberarts. Our good old friend Benny wants to throw all the homeless people out of Tent City to build a cyber studio. What's wrong with you?" My eyes had narrowed at the words "Benny" and "Cyberarts".

"Nothing," I growled. "Me and Benny go _way_ back. Listen guys, I have to go. I'm pretty tired."  
"Okay, Chula. I'll see you tomorrow?" Angel asked.

"I don't know. We'll see. Bye."

"I'll come with you," Mark said. I smiled.

"Thanks. We wordlessly walked up the stairs to my apartment. "Well, uh, thanks again, Mark."

"He's really not that bad. He just…"

"I know. I'll see you later, Mark." I went inside and fell onto my bed. The rage I had felt before was replaced with pity, and though I was tired, I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing – filled with thoughts of Roger, April, and me. I wasn't afraid of much these days, now that I had a steady job and a roof over my head, except one thing. Death. This fight with Roger, and the story of April, sharpened that fear. Because I was largely alone, who would care whether I were dead or alive? And what would they think of my disease? "Oh, she had AIDS, she must have been a slut. Good riddance." And I thought, _Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care?_ A single tear escaped and crawled down my face as I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

X

That night, I dreamed that I was walking down an empty, narrow hall with red walls – nobody to be with, or talk to, or even _see_. Only echoes of a voice shouting at me, ringing as I walked down the hall feeling so very alone…

X

I woke up, sweaty and scared and needing a hit _real _bad.

I didn't always used to be a junkie. In high school, I was a pretty good kid, except for the goofy crap that everyone does in high school. I had nothing to worry about. Then Dad died, and it all went downhill from there. When I had been in New York a while, I went to a party with a guy I had met a few times. It was your typical burn-out party, people passed out on the floor, people drawing on the faces of the sleepers, locked doors where people were doing everything imaginable, and music blaring so loud, you had to scream to be heard. At the party, I smoked a little bit, drank a little bit, nothing serious, when I stumbled upon the guy in the bathroom, a belt around his upper arm, and a needle in his hand.

"_What's that?" I asked._

"_Heroin," he grunted, not looking up._

"_Well… what _is _it?"_

"_What, are you stupid? It's a drug."_

"_But drugs are – "_

" '_Drugs are bad'," he mocked. I looked down, embarrassed. "You listen. This is some of the best stuff that's ever happened to me. I feel great all the time. Want some?" I looked down and bit my lip, feeling apprehensive. He stared at me._

"_Shoot me up," I said._

I was high as a kite. The feeling was so exhilarating, so amazing, so wonderfully _good_! I was hooked. I became a heroin Nazi. Anything to get money for a fix – the Man wasn't cheap. So it was today. I had overslept again, and debated all day whether or not to go to the show. It was my day off – did I really want to spend it at home reading some book I had stolen from the library? Boredom won, and I grabbed my coat. Running around the corner into Tent City, I quickly found my dealer, standing smugly in the shadows. After completing the transaction, I looked up to see someone I hadn't thought I'd be seeing again.

Roger.


	7. Out of the Abyss Walked A Cow

My Eyes

a/n: Ok. So... I know. I'm bad for not updating. But tennis is a beast. And I'm done! So... hopefully more crap will come up? Well, it will for sure if people REVIEW, HINT HINT NOD NOD.

Chapter seven: Out of the Abyss Walked a Cow…

His fists were jammed into his pockets as he shuffled over in my direction.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey. Can I talk to you?" I opened my mouth to reply, but was interrupted by The Man.

"Hey! Loverboy! You steal my client, you die," he snarled, pushing Roger.

"You didn't miss me, you won't miss her!" Roger shouted, shoving back. "Look around! You've got plenty of customers!" The Man bristled – I touched his arm to pacify him, and led Roger away, knowing a fight would break out. I looked up at Roger expectantly. "Look. About last night, I'm sorry. I – I don't – " he stuttered.

"Just forget it," I said. I remembered Mark's story, and felt bad for being so angry at him.

"I was out of line. Can I make it up to you?"

"How?"

"A bunch of us are getting together at the Life Café after Maureen's show," he said.

"Yeah?" I pushed. He smiled.

"Would you like to come with me?" I smiled back.

"Sure. I'd like that." He turned, and we walked together to what was called "The Space". It was an awkward and oppressive silence, which I broke with similarly awkward small-talk. "So you're a tough guy?"

"Not really," he said, traces of a laugh in his voice.

"Its pretty good." As we entered the building, the noise got louder, so we couldn't ear each other over the roar. The large, open area echoed the sound further. It was barren and dirty. A stage had been erected against one wall, an arch of lights over it, a chain link fence behind with darkened lights spelling something I couldn't make out. Scattered across the stage were television screens, a sound board, and a microphone stand. In the center of the room stood a metal pillar with a spotlight, a crank, and a black woman surveying the scene apprehensively. Looking around, I saw Angel.

"Angel!" I cried.

"Mimi!" she shouted. I let out a squeal of joy and pushed over to her, tugging Roger by the hand.  
"Roger, this is Angel." He nodded.

"Yeah, we've met." I looked at Angel with a raised eyebrow. She shrugged. "This is Mark, and Collins," Roger said. I smiled and leaned my arm on Mark's shoulder.

"Yep. We're pretty good buddies now," I said, winking at Mark.

"How – " Roger started, but was interrupted by the roar of a motorcycle revving up, and the cheers of the crowd. _It must be Maureen_, I thought. She drove through the masses, people cheering and clapping and shouting as she went by. Upon reaching the stage, she took off her helmet, shook out her wildly curly hair, and flashed "I love you" to the crowd before tossing her helmet to the people. After carefully laying her coat down beside her, she sighed, centering herself. The audience waited in anticipation. She snapped her fingers and the lights above the stage came on.

"Last night, I had a dream. I found myself in a desert called… Cyberland. It was hot. My canteen had sprung a leak and I was… thirsty. Out of the abyss walked a cow. Elsie. I asked if she had anything to drink. She said 'I am forbidden to produce – milk. In Cyberland, we only drink Diet Coke.' She said, 'only thing to do is jump over the moon'," Maureen sang, circling her hands and hopping. As we laughed and shouted, a mechanical looking moon came down behind her. It was amazing and hilarious how _bad_ she was. Was she kidding? I was startled when she put her hands around her throat and shouted "I gotta get outta here! Its like I'm being tied to the hood of a yellow rental truck, being packed in with fertilizer, and fuel oil, _pushed_ over a cliff by a suicidal Mickey Mouse!" With every word, she hurled herself forward, hands still clutching her neck. The crowd laughed, a mixture of amusement and nervousness. She opened her enormous mouth, and sang "I ––––––––'ve got to got to, got to got to, got to got to, got to got to, got to got to – " she paused and breathed. We stood, fixed in anticipation. "Got to got to find a way – " She pressed a button on the sound board, and as the music that had come before played, the lights behind her illuminated and read LEAP OF FAITH. The televisions came on, and Maureen clutching her hair, looking insane, sang on the screens. Real life Maureen continued. "To jump over the moon. Only thing to do is jump over the moon. Then, a little bull dog entered. His name, we have learned, is Benny." The spotlight swung over to my ex-boyfriend, a stately-looking man in a tailored suit. My stomach had an awful sinking feeling. I bit my lower lip and looked down, praying he wouldn't see me. "Although he once had principles, he abandoned them to live as a lap dog to a wealthy daughter of the revolution.

"A – one, two, three, 'that's bull!' he said. 'Ever since the cat took up the fiddle, that cow's been… jumpy. The dish and the spoon were evicted from the table, and eloped! She's had trouble with her milk and the moon ever since. Maybe it's a female thing. Cause who'd wanna leave Cyberland anyway? Walls ain't so bad. The dish and the spoon, for instance? They're down on their luck, they come knockin' on _my_ doghouse door, and I said, _Not in my backyard, Utensils! Go back to China!_'

"'The only way out is up!' Elsie whispered to me. 'A leap of faith. Still thirsty?' _Parched_…. 'Have some milk.' And I lowered myself beneath her swollen udder, and sucked the sweetest milk I have ever tasted!" Her feet were planted very far apart from each other on the stave, she was squatting, and mimed sucking milk from a cow with noisy slurping noises. The performance was a little eccentric, and badly done, but I could appreciate that she was trying. The general atmosphere of the place was an amused one, and made you forget how terrible she really was. As I watched, I felt a hand snake around my waist and rest on my hip. I looked up to see Roger, intently watching. I smiled, and rested my hand on top of his.

" 'Climb on board!' she said. And as a harvest moon rose over Cyberland, we reared back. We _sprang_ into a gallop. Leaping out of orbit, I awoke, singing!" she hit the soundboard and bobbed her head with the beat as the TV's sang "Leap of faith."

"Oooh. Only thing to do – only thing to do is jump! Only thing to do is jump over the moon. Only thing to do is jump over the moon. Over the moon. Over the – moo. Moo with me!" She stood on the stage, arms outstretched. Everyone sort of laughed, and looked at each other confused. A faint _moooo_ was heard in the back. Maureen pounced.

"Yes! Who was that? Come on, moo with me!" Empowered by the lone, brave _moo-_er, the rest of the audience hesitantly began. It was growing louder, and more insistent. I couldn't help but laugh. Maureen was loving it. "Let it rip! Mooooo! Yes! Way to go, New York City! Moo! Moo! Moo!" A guitar riff began as she began jumping up and down in excitement. The joy and enthusiasm dimmed when the cops began waving their flashlights into the crowd. It was evident and argument had begun. Maureen tried to console them. "Hey. Lets be cool. Officer, please." The fight continued, and someone smashed a bottle on the stage. Maureen stepped back nervously. Her please were quieter, and had a tone of worry about them. "Hey. Please. Everybody be calm, please." The voices got louder and more upset, until finally a cop clubbed one of the spectators, and the place went wild. A full – blown riot broke out. People shoving against people, hitting, screaming, and causing general uproar. My eyes widened in fear and I clung desperately to Roger, who was leading me away, gesturing and shouting to Collins and Angel. The worry and terror I felt, I could see reflected in the faces of others as they fought for safety. I could hear Maureen's pathetic attempts at restoring order before we pushed through the crush of humanity out the door, and into the safety of the cold.


End file.
